An act of liberation

CORKSCREWING from his head at odd angles, Andrew Stockdale’s ‘fro was a tight fit for the bathroom sink in his room at the Beverly Laurel Motor Hotel. The singer-guitarist for Australian psych-rock trio Wolfmother hadn’t cut his hair in a year, but fears of it inappropriately dreading Rastafari style prompted a trim just a few days into the group’s tour supporting their domestic debut EP, “Dimensions.”

Stockdale’s hair was so unruly, it took 10 minutes for the hairdresser to brush it out, but a few hours later it had been transformed into a more symmetrical, Chia Pet sphere just in time for the group’s appearances at MTV, Amoeba Music and Cinespace.

Throughout the night, the band swaggered like the budding rock stars many in the industry believe them to be. On stage, Stockdale stalked about Jagger style, while drummer Myles Heskett beat the skins like a Neanderthal and keyboard/bass player Chris Ross struggled to keep from toppling his jury-rigged Moog.

The caveman drumming, the beefy-thick riffs and bass lines, Stockdale’s no-holds-barred vocals. Wolfmother makes the sort of music that inspires trouble. It’s impossible to listen without wanting to test the limits of your stereo system and self-propriety. One spin of the four-song EP, and you’ll be feeling at least the flutter of an impulse to make out with strangers. Two, and you’ll want to take off your clothes. In public.

Sexy, liberating, exciting, raw -- the EP, released on Interscope in January, is just a tease of what’s to come. Their debut full-length disc, which has been out in Australia since October but won’t be released domestically until May, is even better. It doesn’t just rely on the EP standouts but builds on the throbbing classic rock of “Dimension” and the anthemic psychedelia of “Mind’s Eye” to create a sort of tribute to the ‘60s and ‘70s that doesn’t sound retro so much as vintage.

Wolfmother’s musical influences are apparent enough in the music, but they’re also spelled out in Stockdale’s hotel room. David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” is playing on his laptop. On a nearby counter, a picture of the Beatles decorates the front of the onesie he bought for his 2-week-old daughter. Stockdale himself is wearing a Pink Floyd “Dark Side of the Moon” T-shirt.

Although the musicians who would eventually become Wolfmother all came of age in the 1990s, their hearts are clearly locked in earlier decades.

“Things were better in the ‘70s,” Stockdale says. “Cars looked better. Interior design looked better. A lot of artwork was more progressive.... We’re in a time of technical efficiency and modern living, but things aren’t aesthetically improving. In music, especially with music, you want it to sound good.”

Listening to Wolfmother, it seems that making music is an act of liberation as much as a means of expression. The group is far more concerned with capturing moods and feelings than demonstrating perfect technique. “It’s very hard to get recordings with a good feel if you go into a modern studio,” Stockdale adds. “But if you just go and buy a ‘70s reel-to-reel and one mike, or you just go and play an old Moog synthesizer, it sounds good.”

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Riffs? Let ‘em rip

THE band members first got together in 1999, shortly after Stockdale moved from Melbourne. Heskett and Ross were living in an apartment above a video store on a main drag in Sydney when Stockdale met Ross at a party and the two decided to jam.

The first time they played together, Stockdale says it sounded “like a French disco,” thanks to the ‘80s drum machine Ross was playing. That drum machine has since been ditched in favor of ‘70s synths, but that was just one of many experiments on the group’s way toward finding their own sound.

For 4 1/2 years, the trio played not so much as a band but a collective of anyone who wanted to hang out. Throughout that time, the group didn’t have a name and Stockdale didn’t sing -- Ross and Heskett did. Musically, their sound was more indie than hard rock, sharing more sonic ground with acts like Ben Kweller than the bands Wolfmother is often compared to now -- Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, the White Stripes. It was only after seeing a show by the post-rock Washington, D.C., trio Trans Am that their sound really gelled. “It was a modern, minimalistic take on grooves, so we were trying to push for that. Just trying to get that aggressive sort of thing,” says Stockdale, who was inspired to write his first riff after seeing the band. The result was the driving pulse of “Woman” -- a track that appears on the group’s import EP and upcoming full-length. The song had been “in sort of a funk version” until he added a riff as menacing as a Hells Angel.

Now riffs are what the group’s all about.

It was riffs that prompted a near riot at their first live performance in early 2004, and riffs that propelled Modular, the Sydney-based label, to pick them up just two shows later. Interscope hopped on board the following spring, bringing them to L.A. last summer to record their full-length debut with David Sardy, a producer whose resume includes Oasis, Pavement and Jet.

The songs were hammered out in the warehouse where Pink Floyd came up with “The Wall” and recorded in the same studio as Nirvana’s “Nevermind.”

Whether Wolfmother is destined for the same greatness remains to be seen, but there’s a fast-swelling interest in the group.

It isn’t just the music that’s getting the group so much attention. It’s their authenticity, their vibe, their look. While in L.A. on Valentine’s Day, the band sat for an interview with The Times and an appearance on the MTV show “You Hear It First.” Then it was off to Amoeba and Cinespace. For all of it, Stockdale wore a gray version of the same Pink Floyd tee he had on earlier. Heskett was in a black motorcycle jacket, Ross a battered velvet smoking coat.

Wolfmother are throwback poster boys in thrift store chic, right down to the dog tags, though the tags are from Tiffany’s -- a gift from Modular owner Steve Pav.

It’s easy to see why Pav signed them at first sight. During their four-song set at Amoeba, Stockdale demonstrated a comedic charisma that had him playing Heskett’s high hat with his booted foot and air-smashing his guitar, while Heskett laughed and Ross nearly crashed through the speakers.

“When you’re in the audience, you don’t want to see someone be polite and play guitar,” says Stockdale. “You want to see them living every bit of the music. You want to see that chaos. You want to feel like you’ve done bad things.”